


real

by emullz



Category: American Horror Story: Murder House
Genre: F/M, post afterbirth, so this happened, whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 13:52:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2814305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emullz/pseuds/emullz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>how violet and tate begin to talk again, after everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	real

violet didn't feel much anymore. she couldn't find much of anything that made her blood pulse or her heart fell like is was pumping. 

she discovered quickly that cutting herself made her remember better. a harsh, bitter feeling. a boy in the doorway. pills and cold running water.

it didn't make it any easier, but it made it more real.

\- -

tate was drowning. his head wouldn't stop playing her on a loop. her laugh, her hand on his, the look on her face when she said goodbye. there were too many emotions running through his head. sorrow, and heartbreak, and immeasurable regret for hurting her so deeply. 

he discovered quickly that cutting himself let out some of the remorse. it let it seep through the bloody arrows pointing to his red hands, running up and down his arms like tiny rivers. 

it didn't make it any easier, but it made it less real.

\- -

she walked in on him, once. neither of them knew why they still did it in the bathroom, of all places, but they did.

he covered his wrist his hand, frantically trying to mask the streams of red behind his fingers. violet looked him up and down once and then announced "looks like i'm not the only one cutting vertically these days."

the door clicked behind her as tate sunk to the floor, pounding the bathtub with fistfulls of blood. he cried quietly, a skill he'd learned long ago. 

violet walked out calmly, with her chin held up high. she didn't cry. her face betrayed nothing. it was a skill she'd learned long ago. 

\- -

she was lying on her bed when she saw him standing in the doorway.

"you promised you wouldn't, violet." 

"i thought we said goodbye, tate." 

"you promised." he didn't move from his perch beneath the frame. pounding softly on the wall with his fist. 

"i'm not the one who got walked in on." violet said, looking up from her book. "and it's not like it could hurt us now anyways."

violet looked back at her book.

tate shut his eyes tight, feeling the tears leak out. when violet looked back up, he was gone.

\- -

he didn’t know how long it was until he found her again. she was in the bathroom.

she was crying.

he didn’t know if he should walk any further than the doorway until her sobs got gut-wrenching and he couldn’t stay outside anymore. he walked in without a word and found her in the bathtub with the water running. she didn’t notice him until he was kneeling next to the tub.

she saw his hands clenched on the lip of the bathtub, forcing themselves not to reach for her. She closed her eyes slowly, the tears mingling with the cold running water, when suddenly she felt the water shut off and cold arms tighten around her body, lifting her up and out of the pink puddles she’d left. 

he lay her down on the cold tile floor, his hands clenched around her wrists to stop the flow of her pain. her head lolled back slowly.

“don’t do this to yourself,” Tate whimpered, reaching up with one hand to push her limp wet hair out of her face. “please don’t.” 

Violet’s eyes opened slowly. “i’m all alone,” she whispered.

“you have your family,” Tate pressed, his hands moving up to cup Violet’s face. “you always have your family. and-“

Violet felt her scars knit back together. for the first time since she could remember, her humanity didn’t close with her cuts. “i wanted you.”


End file.
